Since most of us are now working from home I thought it may be useful to let you in on some of the scientific and anecdotal evidence about how spaces affect us and our creativity.
I’ve always been fascinated by the moment an idea arrives — not the neat, tidy moment when it’s been polished and wrapped in ribbon, but the untidy, slightly breathless instant when something shifts in the mind and a new possibility becomes visible.
When someone eats your last Rolo, you feel a totally disproportionate sense of loss. It’s not about the chocolate. It’s about the gap. The narrative was broken.
So, we became wired not just for survival, but for pattern and narrative. We became restless, creative creatures—itchy with the need to make meaning. We drew patterns in the dirt, scratched stories on cave walls, and eventually, designed complex systems, cities, and even shoes that glow in the dark. All of this because our brains, forever uncomfortable with uncertainty, keep asking, What happens next?
There is a very famous film of Picasso painting live. About halfway through creating an effortless masterpiece he says “ Ca va tres mal” (it’s going very badly). Even someone like Picasso struggled to get a painting to go where he wanted it to go. It’s his self-belief, confidence and self-trust that allows him to work through the “bad” stage and experience that tells him that he can make it right. I’m certainly not in that league, but that helped me to understand that I should push through (although sometime you can try too hard and take a sketch too far) and trust my instinct.
Systems and reductionist thinking.
According to Karl Popper, all problems are either Clocks or Clouds. A clock is something you can take to pieces analyze the parts and work out how it works. A cloud is a dynamic system, you can’t it apart. The way to understand a cloud is to study it in a holistic way.